Losing Everything for Nothing
by Unidentified Zombie
Summary: He loved me, and he was sure to be out of this funk towards me as time went by. But time did go by and still, I never felt good enough for him.


Much of my life has been lived with guilt and disappointment. I watched as my dad got more and more distant from me, hating what he saw and never thinking I was good enough. I would tell myself every time that he was just worried about my brother and what puberty was doing to him. He loved me, and he was sure to be out of this funk towards me as time went by. But time did go by and still, I never felt good enough for him. I always felt like I had to change in order for him to be satisfied. I suddenly began to wear more and more black, letting my hair dangle in front of my eyes, and hiding away from the world as his words ripped through me like chains smashing across your back. It was hard to carry that over my back. I didn't want to anymore. I just couldn't take it.

I started hiding the cut marks under long sleeves and wrist warmers. I knew mom was trying her hardest to make sure things were ok, but she knew how much suffering this was causing me. She could see the anger in my eyes. The hurt that scorned and burned my heart with a permanent scar. I would never be good enough to please my dad. I let that motivation entice to slip farther and farther from the model son he had imagined me becoming. I pierced my lip, my eyebrow, my ears, and below the belt. I got tattoos with a fake license. I went clubbing with that same license, drinking until the wee hours and coming home wasted. My dad would take one look at me, scoff, and read his newspaper. "Give me that license of yours. I don't need your brother to see what you've become."

He was so worried about my brother, he didn't even realize I was drunk, covered in piercings and tattoos, and slipping farther and farther to the unknown. I pulled out my wallet, pulling out the card, and handing it to him without even a word. "Fucker," I would say when I left the room.

"Ass hole," he'd reply right back. We had an understanding that we hated each other was the sad part.

Being 16, I worked hard to get my license. I had mom practice driving with me, her saying she never thought I would be this good at driving. She always thought I would be the nervous one behind the wheel, telling me about how Itachi would barely hold on to the wheel without his hands quivering. She noticed my smile, seeing that I was glad to hear I was better than Itachi at something. "I know your dad is hard on you, but he just wants you to become something better than what you've been. Lately, you've been slipping more and more and you'll hit the point of no return and I won't be able to rescue you."

I rolled my eyes, being stubborn and ignorant at the time. I didn't care what she said; I knew where I was headed and wasn't about to stop it there. I wasn't going to let her guilt trip me into trying to get help. She knew what dad had done to me. She let dad treat me like dirt. Why should I listen to anything she says?

I stare at the cars as they drive past me. I sit in the back of the car and stare at the windows. The medical bracelet was still on my wrist. I spin it around my wrist. My mom was sitting in the driver's seat and my father in the front seat. My dad was too seething mad to drive and my mother didn't trust me driving anymore. The jelly bracelets on my wrist seem more interesting than the medical bracelet. I decide to twirl that around instead until we come up to the parking lot. I roll my eyes. This is what I get for one careless act. Johansson State Medical Hospital. I couldn't believe I had fallen so far off the beaten track. My mom parks the car and turns it off, getting out slowly. My dad refuses to get out. I don't blame him. I wouldn't want him to see my face all torn up and battered. I still had fresh scratches from the car wreck. I could still smell the spilled whiskey on my clothes. Mom hadn't let me change when I got home from the hospital. She simply handed me a suitcase, said pack a few clothes, shoved it into the trunk, and we drove away without me so much as speaking up. I already knew the mistake I had made would send me to a medical ward or a state hospital; just didn't think it would be one so far away from home. Mom said the separation would teach me lesson. I bet she was sending me to this one because she wanted an excuse not to come and visit me or so I wouldn't be so close to other relatives. Neither one would surprise me. "Get your things," she says, her eyes already shrink wrapped in tears.

I open the trunk and pull out the black suitcase. We walk towards the open doors, my dad boring holes in the back of my head as he stares at me. This was a sin unforgivable in his book. Now I knew I'd never gain his full respect. In actuality, I didn't mind. I would never get the respect he has for my brother. Too bad my brother was crack whore that was able to hide his drug use better than I was. I should've been angry with them sending me away. I should've fought back and said they can't make me go. I should've told them about my brother and how he's gay, a crack whore, and tried to fuck me several times when he came home high. I didn't though. It wasn't worth the drama. I didn't need dad losing two sons in one day. We enter the doors and the white tile and white walls are the first thing to great us. I roll my eyes. This seemed like a horror movie to me; an almost too clean sanctuary for the criminally insane. I wasn't insane; criminally possibly but I wasn't going completely mad despite what my family thought of me. "I'm here to sign in Sasuke Uchiha."

Maybe if I drooled or spat out random cuss words, they would believe I needed to be here. Maybe if I messed up my hair, had a bottle in my hand, threw up on the tile and let someone slip, then they would see I would actually need to be here. The woman gives me an overview. "I hope you know he'll need to change before he walks in. He smells of liquor and many of the other patients in here are former alcoholics."

My mom had a bag in her other hand. "He doesn't mind at all. He can go change while I fill out his paper work."

"He needs to be in the room when that happens. Just go change and then come back and we'll fill out his papers and forms."

"I don't understand why he has to be in the room."

"How old are you child?"

I look at the woman, surprised she asked me. "18," I say.

"He's of legal age to sign himself in and be part of filling out the forms. Only patients under 18 are the ones that have to have a parent fill out their forms. He being a legal adult gives him liability to look at the forms."

I look at my mom. She looks angry, something she hardly looked. She reminded me of dad when her face scowled like that. I walk over to the restroom and step into the handicap stall. I throw my pants off and put the other pair of black skinny jeans mom had put into the bag. She also had grabbed my sarcasm shirt. I smile, throwing off my shirt and putting the new one on. I tie the sweatshirt jacket around my waist. It was the only piece of clothing I had that didn't reek of alcohol. I place the other clothes into the bag do a quick overview of myself. I made sure I had placed my cigarettes in my pant pocket and lighter in my back pocket. I placed my cell phone down my pants and my headphones down my shirt. They weren't going to cut me off from music and texting that easily. I walk back out, thankful my cell phone wasn't slipping. She leads up behind the desk to the back room. We pass several other offices before reaching one that says 'Dr. Markel'. Opening the door, an older woman with graying blond hair smiles at us. "Hello," she says, shaking my mother's hand and nodding her head towards me. "I'm Dr. Markel. It's nice to meet you."

Before my mom can ask any questions, Dr. Markel had papers in front of us and pens. "As an adult, you can make any changes that seem fit, but please I'd advise you not to change too much. I know it might seem like a strained question, but what your mom finds best is probably what we will take."

Mom rights down my birth information, my social security number, my health care provider, and pauses on the reason for my stay. She writes down 'alcoholism, car accident involving alcohol, drug problems, and slight emotional problems. Anger and violence towards father.' "I've never tried to hit dad," I suddenly blurt.

"Violence can be interpreted in more than one way, Sasuke," she responds.

"Erase that. I never have tried to hit dad or made threats towards him. You know that. Besides, I'm not the one that threatened to hit someone with a broom."

Mom erased the violence and simply left it as anger and unresolved problems with father. I wouldn't argue that. She paused at another question. My sexual history. "You're going to have to fill this one out. I'm not sure I want to."

I took the paper from her and filled out everything. She took it back and looked over at it. "Been with enough people?"  
"There's possibly more than that."

She shakes her head, finishes, hands the form to me, and looks around at the desk. I agree with everything she says, especially one part that hits me like a truck. I hand the form the Dr. Markel, who looks over it. "So Sasuke Uchiha, you are here for alcoholism, drug problems, emotional imbalance, aggression towards father, and for sexual addiction it seems like."

"I'm not a sex addict. I'm a horny drunk." I had to put it blunt of course.

"We'll be able to discuss during our sessions. I hope you know your judge dictates how long you stay here. He recommended a four month stay. You agreed to that in court I assume because as quoted from the court order 'I want to change my life. It's been full of shit and I'm sick of the shit making me hurt the ones that surround me.' Are you sure you want to stay here that long?"

I take in a deep breath and nod my head. I needed as much help as any person did. I had let alcohol take over. "But is it all right if I smoke in here? It keeps the drug cravings in control. I'll eventually drop smoking hopefully."

"It's permitted but not recommended."

"All right."

"As one of the founders of Johansson State Medical Center, I welcome you to the start of your life clean and sober. As of right now, you are cut off from alcohol and drugs."

Those words, though hopeful and nice, seemed strained and pounding more than I'd like to admit to. I smiled a crooked smile. I walk out of the office and follow my mom to the front door. I hug her, something I hadn't done in so long. "Please tell dad to watch Itachi. He's been doing habits that would be considered undesirable as well."

She held me tight in her arms and cried. She wasn't angry with me like she tried to show; she was scared to death. I felt bad for what I'd done to her, but right now I was at least doing something that I hadn't been able to do in five years. I followed the nurse to the back. My mom waves to me, saying she would call me in a week. I turn my back towards her. They do a search, finding my cell phone. I wasn't the first to try and sneak a cell phone in. They didn't find my MP3 surprisingly enough. They found my lighter. "I swear I'm not a burner. Can you trust me with my lighter?"

The nurse handed me it back surprisingly enough. "Just don't let some of the others get a hold of that. And when you do light up, you will be watched. Be aware that the staff here hates that I'm allowed to let you walk in with a lighter but say you have my permission to. I rank higher than many of them."

I give her my word while they search my stuff. They find my cleaner for piercings. "It's not rubbing alcohol. It's just a bacterial treatment. I have six different piercings."

"Where?"

I point as I name them off. "My eyebrow, snake bites, nipples, and one down south if that's enough info. And plugs too."

The male doctor rolls his eyes. "Tattoos?"

"Three on my back, one on the upper part of my arm, one on the back of my neck, and one that starts at my hip and works it way up my side." I lifted my arm and showed him the snake that climbed from the dead rabbit it was eating to where its head was, blood dripping down its fangs and smiling an evil smile. That one was the one I was most known for. "Anything else?"

"No that will be all for now."

They did another drug check to make sure I wasn't hiding anything, made me send in a urine sample to see if I was clean and sober. When it came back negative for any drugs, they permitted me to follow the woman to the section of the hospital I would be staying in. Other patients look at me as I walk by. Compared to most of them, I was the prime example of a teenager gone bad. I could tell the nurses already thought of me as the problem patient. It was obvious from the glares I was getting from them. I roll my eyes and smirk. They lead down several hallways, all of them with white tiles and white walls like they couldn't find a better color other than white. It was more white than I saw in church. "Welcome to the drug and alcohol rehab center. You'll be staying in this part of the building during your treatment. I'm the resident advisor of this part of the building and might I make it clear that if you break any rules, I will write you up and you will have your time here extended. Now do I make myself clear?"

"Crystal," I respond. She would be one to avoid at all cost and not to upset.

"Good. Now while you're hear, there will be no smoking inside the building, no intermingling with the opposite sex, no sex, no sneaking drugs, no sneaking out, no disrupting the others, and most importantly, no missing any assigned appointments with your therapist. You will be escorted to breakfast, lunch, and dinner, bed time is 10:00 which means all lights are out, wake-up is 8:15, and if you shave you will need someone in the room. Also you are not allowed outside the grounds without the accompaniment of a staff nurse. Do you understand all your rules?"

"I guess. When do I get to shower?"

"10:30, as are the others during their first two months here. I understand you have a four month stay, but I know for fact you'll be here longer. You look like the stubborn type that doesn't break habits so easily. I loathe that kind of patient."

"Couldn't tell."

She glares at me, my sarcastic tone irritating her. I will write that down on things not to do around her. "Regular searches will be executed on your items to make you haven't brought anything harmful or dangerous. I see the note about your lighter and let me be the first to tell you that I will be watching you closely while you carry that. We've had suicides with lighters and I don't want to clean up someone else's ashes."

I look at her, rather frightened to know that she had cleaned up someone's dead carcass before. "Where do I sleep?"

"I will lead you to your room now."

I followed her down the winding hallways, passing other patients room. One I could tell what a former pot user. His eyes were red and seemed to roll back into his head. It was rather freaky to look at to be honest. One girl, from the looks of it, was having severe withdraw symptoms. Her face was covered in sweat and her bangs were sticking to her forehead. She had a hold of her chest like she couldn't breathe. I worried that no one was noticing what was happening to her. The girl looks over at me, her green eyes throwing darts of flames at my face. I look away and pay attention to the lines in the tile, counting the lines to each square and how many cubes I could make. "Here you are. Room 616."

She unlocks the door and steps inside. A man with dark brown hair and red marks on his cheeks smiles at me. "Sasuke Uchiha. Long time, no see."

I hug my friend Kiba, surprised he was here. Everyone in high school thought his suicide attempt had worked and he was dead. Turned out he was just here, waiting to get his life back in order. He was the reason that me and cocaine tangoed often. "Everyone at school thought you were dead."

"Nope I've been here trying to get my shit back in its place. It's helped so far, but I have some way to go. I still got another six months in here before my evaluation. How about you? I saw what happened in the newspaper. You stupid fuck. Don't you know any better from me?"

"I guess not."

"It seems you two know each other. Hopefully Kiba can be a good influence on you unlike his last roommate, who he tried to bust for having a joint."

"And you said I was a liar. I told you it wasn't mine from the start and you thought I was being sneaky. I told you; I don't do weed. It fucked my mom up and made her grow some of it."

"Your mom grew marijuana?"

"Unfortunately."

"Right well dinner will be in about two hours so I will leave you. And do remember something. I will watch you with that lighter."

She left the room. I flop down on the bed and grab my cigarettes from my back pocket. "Can I bum one?"

I hand him on and light it up for him before lighting up my own. I had six more packs with me. I didn't mind if he had one. "So what the fuck were you thinking driving home wasted? You saw the shit I got into when I did that. I killed a dog."

"Wasn't thinking I guess," I admit, "I've been screwed up lately. Dad's image of what he wants me to be has wiped clean though. He just wanted me gone. He got his fucking wish."

"You still fighting with your dad?"

"Still? I've always been fighting with that son of a bitch."

Kiba laughs. "That's true. Too bad he doesn't know about his crack dealing, crack whore, man-fucking 'pride-of-the-family' son is more fucked up than you."

"And he never will. He admires him too much. 'Top of his class.' 'A model citizen.' 'Expected to go to Yale, Harvard, or Princeton.' 'Honor roll all throughout high school and perfect attendance as well.' 'Such a good boy.' You never get tired of hearing that in the house every day of the week except when dad wasn't home." I blow a puff of smoke out, not sure if it was allowed or not to smoke in the rooms. "I don't know; dad's been on a drinking binge lately though. It's freaking mom out because she has no idea what's going on with him."

"Maybe they haven't had sex in a while and he needs some poon-tang."

"Do you think maybe you never got laid in high school because of the use of the words 'poon-tang' or 'poonani' or just flat out 'pussy'?"

"Hey I've had three girls thank you."

"Drunken hook-ups not included."

Kiba jokingly hit my arm. "I've had three sober girls. The other six I was barely stable. I don't know why one of them came back to screw me sober. I don't even know how I got it in there or not. Besides, I'd rather sleep with someone who knows the number they've been with unlike you. How many people have you slept with, sex monkey?"

"If you must know, the count is 27. I keep track."

"27 sober ones or for real?"

"Both you asshole."  
Kiba rolls his eyes. "All right so compared to you, I'm not exactly a stud muffin, but compared to most people, I'm not falling too short at least."

This was just like old times. I wondered, suddenly, how long this catching up would last when a knock came at my door. "Sorry to bother you two but Ellis escaped again and we're doing checks to make sure we're all accounted for. I'm sure you know by now, Kiba."

Kiba nods his head. Once the nurse leaves, he explains. "Ellis has been here six years for drug addiction. She just can't kick her habit for pain killers. It doesn't help that she was a certified nurse at one point and worked as a pharmacist for three years. She got hooked on Oxycotin after breaking her foot slipping on a wet spot. Has been in and out of 15 different rehab centers. This is the only one that would take her back. She makes escape attempts every month or so and is usually caught within a week or two."

"Why don't they just strap her to a bed?"

"They legally can't. They've been trying to get the approval from her family though, who's legally responsible for her. Court ordered her care takers because they thought of her as 'unfit to run her own life'. This is the perfect example why."

I look at Kiba kind of shocked. I grab my notebook from my suitcase and write it in. I needed a way to escape for a quick moment while Kiba dragged on his cigarette.

_So this is the prison they choose to send me? A mental institution. State hospital. Asylum. Whatever they want to call it, it still means the same thing to me; a cage. The windows are barred all around the buildings and the floors are white along with the walls. Apparently hell has done a makeover. I never understand why hospitals have to look exactly like churches. They don't need sanctuary when they are locked away from society. I feel like that; I was unfit to the world and now I'm forced to live several months here, waiting for some clarity to see what would fit the norms of this reality._

_ I've already defined my own set of norms. I've said many times in this journal that I've purposely gone out of my way to make sure the norms are so far out of my reach, I'd never be able to reach onto them without hurting myself. I've never wanted to be part of the norm. I've always wanted to somehow inspire a new norm to this little, tiny, insignificant planet. Of course, that hope will go no where. People are so dead set in how they want the world that they will never accept difference. Different. That needs to be the new norm people should try out._


End file.
